Page 37 of Summertime Friends

“I appreciate the offer, but I should return to my friend. We’re“ leaving tomorrow anyway.”

Beatrix walks to where her clothes are decorating the floor. She stops when our shoulders meet and tilts her head to kiss my cheek. “Miss you too, Hayes.”

“We leave in fifteen minutes now. Get your shit together.”

“Thanks for the orgasms,” Beatrix says, not looking at George. Dressed, she strides toward the door, throwing a hand in the air, and waves a small goodbye to both of us. She’s past the threshold of the door when she stops. A hand reaches out to grab hold of the archway. Beatrix turns her body to look back at George. It’s my eye contact she finds. There is sorrow and a hint of wishful thinking in them. I can tell that someday she hopes that he finally stops sleeping around enough to only love her.

She’s gone a moment later.

***

Emerson is standing at the train station, peering around curiously. It’s the same curiosity that she proudly wore at the coffee shop.

“Is this about a girl?” George whispers to Callum behind me.

“I don’t know,” Callum whispers back.

It’s not about any girl, it’s about her. Emerson Clarke.

Emerson’s head swivels till it lands on us. She catches me and rolls her eyes.

“Thought I was lying?” I call to her.

When we finished our coffee, we went our separate ways to pack. Within the quick walk back to my hotel, I booked rooms for all of us at my favorite place to stay in Lagos. I didn’t know if she already had a place, but leaned into the assumption of no. Emerson didn’t mean to, but revealed that this wasn’t part of the original outline.

The dynamic between her and—shit, I can’t remember her friend’s name. Their dynamic perplexes me. I wonder if Emerson knows that her friend walks all over her like a doormat you’ve had forever with imprints of where your shoes step every time you walk on it.

“This fella thought he’d get away with running off to Lagos without us.” George clamps a hand onto my shoulder.

I never properly introduced them last night, but they saw me with her. “The last time we were there. Two years ago, aye? Last year of uni, and Liam here accidentally—”

“That’s enough,” Callum shuts him up.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Emerson, gesturing to the two idiots standing beside me.

She mouths back, “It’s fine.”

“Didn’t get to meet last night. I’m Callum Sullivan.” He pulls her in for a hug, planting a kiss on either side of her cheeks.

She looks up at him, a tiny twinkle in her eyes. The same twinkle all girls get when they see Callum. Same height and similar blue eyes as me. His sandy blond hair is cut close to the head. It curls when he grows it out, giving him irresistible surfer vibes. Fits that his two brothers are both professional surfers.

George pushes past, pulling Emerson in for a hug, but he stops when he sees my eyes. I look at him, daring him to touch her. He smirks and puts his hands on top of her shoulders, checking her out from head to toe.

“George Eaton.” He reaches a hand to hers after taking a step back and dropping his arms from her shoulders. “The best of the three in more ways than one.”

Cal and I muffle our disdain. No reason for us to stroke his ego.

George is shorter than us, reaching only six feet, something Callum and I don’t let him live down. He has warm, light brown skin and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen, except when you are close to him and see they are onyx. Flecks of gold dispersed throughout. The amount of gold honestly depends on what hair color he decides to have. At the present moment, it is a dusty light brown, the bleach blond fading away.

“I’m good for at least three good snogs when you’re done with him,” he tells Emerson. She laughs at him; however, her eyes aren’t on him but focused on me.

And perfect timing. In a public place, I’m hard watching her watch me.

We’re on the express train to Lagos. In two hours, we’ll be at the furthest south point in Portugal. Lisbon is incredible, the city and history, but Lagos is a dream: the beaches, the bars, the everything.

I sat next to Emerson on the train, where we filled in the gaps from the night before. Growing up in London, growing up in the Midwest, my relationship timelines with George and Callum, how she is terrified of clowns and will never go to a circus despite how happy people tell her they are.

We spend the entire time talking, fun fact for a fun fact, and story for story. I categorize each piece of information about her, tucking it away as if it were contact information in a Rolodex. I don’t want to forget a thing about her.

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